I laughed till I cried
at all that is happening.
As if I was waiting
long time to laugh with glee.
A screeching laughter
from the depth of my guts.
I could go out on the streets
and dance like Zorbas did
or onrush
singing a paean of war.

Strange times!

But it's still so "cold" , bro,
so cold, I'm freezing ...
It is not even expected
the heart to get warmer soon
even if it is burning like a wild fire.
Yes, let my heart explode, bro ...
I do not care anymore!
Let me explode
so the rest of the people feel and live better.

Greek History is shouting
from the depths of Yerevan!

I rewrote the poem in English under my efforts to advance abroad with my small forces through the Art the Greek but also European and Global economic problem which tortures the peoples around the world more and more. I also suggest to all of you to start your own small revolution of Intelligentsia, Word and Poetry fighting the violation of human rights by  a small elite just for money.


I doubt everything!
People have now started
to seem in my eyes
SO sub-humans!
Such a herd!
So immoral...

We say blame money
But how, HOW-we the wretched ones-
as a mass or as individuals
we rape, kill, torture
women and children
-don't we do it with our own hands ? -
and then untroubled
we continue to live
by swabbing our nose
not to inhale
the stench of death
by plugging our ears
not to hear the  crying
of the wounded ones
of the dismembered ones
of the orphans
of the persecuted ones?

We turn our back and OK!
Nothing's wrong anymore!
When the Wilderness
hits our body
we are surprised and
we wonder
about the indifference of our "fellows"
-even if we  had called them so never before

Hordes of refugees
of abused ones
of hungry ones
of thirsty ones
opposite gaunt models
rocking  their boned hips
in crawled catwalks
opposite obese monsters
who are consuming
carcinogenic crap
and are in deep depression ...

I have nothing to say
So I speak from pain
that the babies who
I nursed in my arms
one day, in a next century
will mutate into
the perverted robots
which they embody
as they kill "the bad ones"
in  their online games
As therein they will perhaps seek
bonuses and awards
for those who they will have killed

Today in Gaza the enemies are
some horrible blackish ones
with checkered "tablecloths" on their heads
and the winners in tears
pray for forgiveness at the Wailing Wall
free from the annoying flies ...which
they fired to the fire abroad!

We do not know how to give love
that's it all  for sure!
We do not know how to love...


I'm living in my perfect bubble,
Seeing only the colors of my rainbow.
There are people out in the streets'
looking to the blue sky,
whispering their surprise for the beauty of the twilight.

They are sleeping with dogs to stay warm and safe.
Their shelter is a tree and their happiness a free nice cup of coffee.
They must survive, although someone is chasing them.
They are afraid of the thief with the red bicycle, who covers his face and
they’re afraid to tell the police too: " Cops are mean to me"
People who recognize themselves as diminished, lessened.
Young women with white hair, rapped in rags.
Homeless cowboys dependent on their pair of good socks,
of their military jacket, on their adolescent dreams.
Humans with emotions:
"in her big hug, her breasts were so exciting"
Humans wandering in the world in a faint despair,
coming and going, amongst the gangs and the "respectable ones",
needing just a garden of hope and love, their freedom and some food.
I'm praying for them in my ignorant, protective bubble.
I easy my conscience in my beautiful bubble...


What do we have got
except our personal fantasies
into a world of pain?
Do you see them, mother,
the homeless, the hungry,
the slaughtered, the wronged,
the sick, the criminals...
Do you really see them?
Do you feel that your sons and daughters
can become a part of
the whole world's miserable ones?
Did it consciously passed in your reality
even the slightest suspicion of this possibility?
Of this frightening nightmare?
That in the place of your withered roses,
it is always possible thorns to grow .
I never felt secure in my fake success...


Mo, you're old and
Pain's our mutual friend.
You try to connect.
People just neglect.
They heard your cry,
But their heart's dry.
Lying on the pavement.
Life's an enslavement.

However your smile
Indeed worthwhile
Even if toothless,

Your dreams so ruthless!
In your late lover's belief
You're stuck without grief
You 're talking to her

They think:"Alzheimer"

But you dare to prove
Love's in the groove!
Τhan hunger and death.
Maximum humans dearth!


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DO NOT LET YOUR CHILDREN BECOME BARBARIANS! (BARBARIAN SYNONYMS: savage, monster, beast, brute, yahoo, swine, ogre, sadist , lout, hooligan, illiterate, vandal, bigot, philistine, ned (Scot. slang), hoon (Austral. & N.Z.), ruffian, ignoramus, boor, boot boy, lowbrow, vulgarian,uncivilized, wild, rough, savage, crude, primitive, vulgar, philistine, uneducated, unsophisticated, barbarous, boorish, uncouth, uncultivated, uncultured, unmannered, rude
ANTONYMS; civilized cultured, civil, sophisticated, refined, civilized, genteel, urbane, highbrow, well-mannered, well educated)


O' Woman the source of passion!
Woman the end and the start of men' world!
Mighty woman!

I've been always surprised
by how they treat you
Men are so terrified by your presence!

So many of them are able to tame you
only by suppressing you
by accusing you
only by persuading you
teaching you, treating you
growing you up like a REM

They dress you in black robes, burqas and veils
from head to toe
They say your beauty is a sin
They teach you to believe
it is bad for you to feel and to want
or even to wish for yourself

If they could, under all these cloths
behind all these screens,
they put to hide you,
they would have engraved in indelible letters
on your womb the word "RES"

You are to be owned, you are to be considered
as their THING : their treasure or their pawn
they cannot withstand the challenge
to keep you conquered with love and affection
they fear to lose you
so they find it easier to put your personality in chains

How dastardly, how pathetic, how cowardly, how despicable
to deprive you often even from your right to pleasure
to destroy even the organs and the orgasm which nature offered you
as a present to still carry on, to still support the perpetuation,
the nurturing and the well being of the human race
through your pains and struggles and though your own body

What exactly names men women’ absolute rulers?
Are MEN in charge to lead humanity into eternity?
Just think of a world without WOMBMEN. THINK!!!

I'm so MAD with what I see to happen against my gender
all around the world, I am so shocked!
I think that women’ affection, love and generosity
women’ devotion and faith, and finally women emotions
are the reasons men continue to be born and live
If womb-men were just men they would have eliminated
their dangerous lovers just after their fertilization
Just like the female praying mantis cannibalizes
the head of her sexual partner upon mating...

P.S. I love a lot men when they respect me just like I respect them!
"Res" ( accusative "rem") means "thing" in Latin.


If with some money you could
buy both food and appetite
then you should
be sorry you are just a poor knight

If the damned wealth
could give you health
no drugs instead
keeping you undead

If you could gain beauty
wearing those dresses
run my friend run!
make some expenses!

If same as the glance of your sweetheart
which made you happy
amusements proceed to your heart
then go on! Do not stop
Keep just having fun my buddy!

If you are able real friends
with money to uphold
not only minions and fans
for your mantle to hold

If your nest's coziness
less than to own a house yields
Well make some business
lament for those who
have no richness!

If your beautiful Rolex
can reverse the time's vortex
then my friend, I don't tease you
I will really never accuse you!

The dreams which I have
in rested sleep
I bet a new bed wouldn't give
even in luxury deep

lf I sell my poems' remnants
for gold to pay some servants
and if everyone in world
was paying just my hand to hold

and if people buy my knowledge
without I grow in wisdom
and the Innocent and Good ones
do not accept my Kingdom

and if the pleasure which I paid for
could even remind me how
my first unique Love was before...
I could appreciate then, honey,
those who the working people blood
drink unashamedly JUST FOR MONEY!


M...issiles,guns, bombs, dismembered victims

I... see them on media from afar I live in a
......peace paradise
S...ince I was born, WAR didn't come to mow
......in my place
S...o afraid I am often though, they say men
......are hunters
I...'m many sons' mother, danger's always
......near disguised in their aquired's defense
N...ever feel safe, my home's serene point's
......in Middle East's active crater
G...o away so long soaked in blood, horrible
......specter terrifying my nights!

P...hantoms soldiers of my ancestors who never
......came back reveal themselves out of history's dustbin
E...ntering in my heart's love temple
......to remind me
O...f human race's worst dark nightmare where weeping ......women
P...ay more than money to the mighty ones

L...ife is the price in massacres' abhorrent
.......marketplace where wide open
E...yes of dead youth stare expressionlessly
.......humanity's future deadlock


There are some living Saints
with bowed bald heads'
Some holy beings
some aetherial acrobats
they're balancing on a tightrope at nights
amongst pain and life '
who just want to depart in peace
but they feel they have a duty to complete
therefore to still exist
for the sake of whatever they had been engaged to serve '
for the sake of whatever they shouldn't anyway leave behind alone'
to serve Love for as long they can bear it,
to do not give up hope for what will future bring ...
Potentially our overt or covert idols in deed ...
They often have a beautiful adolescent's or infant's form ...
Unspeakable the pain, severe heart's shame!
Ah! For some laudanum they just beg to withstand existence'
we, as despicable traitors or in a deep sleep resting
we dare to deprive the Gladiators of Courage
even from the opportunity to fight with a simple sword ...
Dedicated to my friends or unknown cancer patients or other severely ill patients , especially to the Young Heroes among them, who often in the merciless Greek society of the financial crisis are seeking even painkillers to find or are humiliated to resort to the charity, which fortunately is offered by some of us.


I was a victim
I really was a victim
They tried to rape me
when I was eleven
I just escaped
I beat them
I knew how to beat them
I hit them
I knew where to hit them
My grandma told me
on their erect organ
My father beat the crap out of them
The police said we better shut up
The police beat them hard too
The police said they blame me on the court
The police said "Better do not suit them"
For my own good...
The police made me puke for a week
My dad made me puke when he asked
"What did you do
to provoke them?"
I beat them
But in fact
I'm a victim
I hear their boots
running behind me
all my damned life
I hate every walking man
behind me in the night
They raped my soul!
I always am the victim


What a wonderful world would be on earth,
if human souls were open to
meet the soul of everyone near,
without suspicion or fear,
just diving in eyes depths
to explore the waters
of innocence,
where the kids
who we
were .


Relaxed under the midday summer sun
face down
on my wound
I feel the lack of my soft breast
which you cherished but almost killed me
I miss it
as I miss you
It betrayed me
just as you betrayed me
I try to defend myself against it
as I defend myself against your abandonment
I nourished with it life
Through this I felt the unique giving of the motherhood's fulfillment
The magic offer in life through nursing
the flowing emotion with no wrapping ...
Through it I offered continuity to nature
I gave and I received great pleasure
And now I am parted from it!
Sometimes I feel it to be still there
but now only as a threat ...
I fumble there terrified and the illusion disappears
How was I waiting for it to blossom as a little girl!
The confirmation of my femininity...
The source of admiration in my first erotic thrills
What a self-confidence!
I was touching it and it was reacting sensually
I was caressing it feeling secure.
I was taking care of it
I was protecting it to maintain
its erotic thelxion and beauty.
At first you did not dare to touch it
as if it were sacrosanct forbidden.
You were looking at it stunned.
But in the end you were coming exhausted
there to be comforted ...
"Ah, your breasts are something" you were just telling me...
You were resting your head on them with worship
so gently as if you would break them
and you were pleading me
"Please, let me be here a little longer!"

Relaxed under the summer midday sun
face down
I am feeling ...
My breast is my first piece which were buried ...
I was lucky!
Mother Earth didn't welcome me as a whole, I fooled her for a while longer .
But really
I mourned for what I missed
As I for you too...
I am not ashamed even though I changed
I am proud!
I just would like now me to rest on your chest ...
You see
my complaint is no longer my breast which I buried.
My complaint is you
who I didn't achieve yet to bury in my past ...
You don't worth it.


Blood's red
Joy's red
Passion's red
Illusion of life
when color is red
my red cheeked student
was suddenly dead

Sun in dawn is red
but it's also red
when day's end
Red my lips from lust
Red my heartbeat
my love didn't last
its red heat

I see red tears falling
in the eyes of hungry kids calling
their dead ancestors
or their human protectors
Red light outside poor girl's door
trampled bud who's selling her carnal
for a nickel of vices paying her survival
No one pay for reading and writing her to learn
Educated pussies are not so easy to be burnt
since their bread through mental skills may be earned

Life is red
Anger is red
All that reddish thing
I really cannot withstand
I need serene colors
Faces of hate's red
Bleeding young soldiers are red
mixed with dead babies
with their diapers immersed in red
Red stones thrown
around the shaved hair
of the African woman
who was punished to be stoned
because someone else than
her husband raped her and gone

I see red all around
everything turns to
a red giant's explosion
my universe is being eaten
by a red catastrophe of notions
I need a wise orange
I need at least a sorrowful purple
Red is killing my time's slow turtle

I tried in this poem to use the passionate feeling that red provokes to make you run through many emotional states and many different rooms of human conscience and compassion. This I suppose can influence and make aware human soul passing for example from the joy of lust to the despair of death, as the ancient tragedians taught us, conducting soul through the tragic to catharsis

(C)Chryssa Velissariou


1 comment:

  1. Thank you. Hope they'll inspire compassion and agape. Humanitarianism as also peace is a collective good which means it is not coming instinctively to society but it must be continuously taught, discussed and practiced to be realized and not remain a utopia. We must steadily push people towards humanitarianism and peace, no matter if it seems useless. Last decades although this seems strange Univertities researches prove that the conflicts and inhuman bias gradually subside in human society because of further perseverance on education of the peoples and of the engagement of small groups with the implementation of humanism and of ecology.


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